


Those Pretty Lights

by aliceinchucks



Series: Lights [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disabled Character, F/M, Fluff, Music, Musicians, Romance, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinchucks/pseuds/aliceinchucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The paralytic meets the street performer. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Pretty Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or any of its characters. Song lyrics adapted from Andrew Belle's "All Those Pretty Lights."
> 
> Enjoy!

The boy is out there playing again, just like I knew he would be. The window isn't open this time so I can't hear his voice, but I've heard it often enough to know that it's cool and clear with barely a hint of a rough edge to it, just enough to send a shiver down my spine. Maybe if I ask nicely when Riku comes by he'll open the window for me, since apparently they don't trust me with the key unsupervised. He usually will, when he thinks to come by.

Since I don't get the pleasure of hearing his song I focus on the boy himself. His sunny blond hair sweeps up and to the left in its wonderfully gravity-defying way, his fringe falling down into too-blue eyes. When he sings the left side of his mouth stretches higher than the right in imitation of his hair. Today he wears dark blue jeans and his usual black jacket over some indistinguishable t-shirt that probably displays the name of some alternative rock band. His clothes are on the loose side but not so baggy that they hide his solid but lean frame. I watch the movement of his fingers as they slide expertly over the strings of his black acoustic guitar, considering for a moment the fact that my watching him all the time might be a bit creepy, but it's not like I have anything else to do. I'm quite stuck here at the window.

You see, the window is looking out of my second-story room at the TwiTown Assisted Living Centre where I'm sitting up on my bed, paralysed from the waist down and in my right arm. I'm a bit limited on entertainment opportunities.

The street performer's gaze flicks up to the sky and I look away quickly, knowing the chances of him seeing me up here staring are slim, but not wishing to take the risk. Instead my gaze falls to a small hole in my sterile-white sheet. I stick my finger in it. Now it's a slightly bigger hole. Soft knocking on my already open door alerts me to the tall, silver-haired boy's presence.

"Hi, Riku."

He smirks at me slightly as if he knows what I've been doing for the past half hour or so. He probably can guess. He looks stylish as always, today wearing a white vest over a navy blue thermal shirt with his 'Aide' badge shining on his chest. "Naminé." He nods in greeting. "Everything fine?"

"Yeah, great."

"Are you sure you don't want to come down with the others? Everyone's having a good time." By the others he means the Old People. Because really, who else lives in an Assisted Living Centre besides old people? Well, me, I guess. I'm seventeen and have been living here since I was eleven, when the doctors at TwiTown Hospital gave up hope that I would ever regain control of my lower body and arm and realised I couldn't stay at the hospital forever. Two years before that was the car accident I can't remember, the one that killed my mother and my little brother and left me alive but broken.

"Maybe later tonight," I tell him, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. He nods.

"Alright, I'll be back in about an hour."

"Thanks, Riku."

"Merry Christmas, Naminé."

"Merry Christmas."

It's only after he leaves, of course, that I realise I'm thirsty, and the glass on my bedside table is empty. My lethargic grey-blue eyes blink back at me through the distorted reflection in the glass and I sigh. Now that I've noticed my parched mouth, the thirst is almost overpowering. The pitcher on the far side of the table still has a bit left in it, though, and I make up my mind that I will reach it. My fingers grip the side of my bed to pull myself over closer to the edge, then I lean over as far as I can, reaching with my left arm. It's close...so close... The tips of my fingers graze it and I almost rejoice, but before I can get a good grip the pitcher tips in the wrong direction, spilling its contents all over my sofa and landing with a dull thud on the carpet. I stare at the dark wetness of the upholstery and carpet for a moment before sighing heavily and leaning my head against the wall. Aeris will clean it up when she comes. I consider using my little green Assistance Button on my bedside table to call for her now, but it's just water. No use bothering her about it.

Aeris is the one who takes care of me, really, bringing me food, helping me change clothes and bathe, among other embarrassing things. She's the sweetest, most gentle lady I'm ever likely to meet. She and Riku are generally the only company I get unless I go downstairs to the common area, which I do whenever Riku persuades me to let him take me. The two of them have shown me nothing but patience and kindness since I've arrived, or in Riku's case, since his internship started, and I'd give anything- _anything_ -to not be dependent on these wonderful people.

Aeris says I'm coping well with living here. I used to tell her I'm not really living. That would just make her sad, so I don't say that anymore. Now if she says something about how well I'm doing I just smile and say it's thanks to her.

I lean back over towards the window, making a further mess of the sheets Aeris had so carefully smoothed. The boy is gone, along with the small crowd of listeners he'd attracted. Maybe that's what I find so addictive about watching him, his vibrance and passion just naturally draw people in towards him. He seems like he's living the most out of all the people I've seen.

Nearly every night for the past few weeks at eight o'clock he's been there, in the same spot, like clockwork. He plays and sings several songs, some of which I think must be original compositions because I've never heard them on the radio before. Occasionally someone will drop a few coins or a bill into his guitar case, but he's not making much this way since most people just listen without donating. I wonder what he needs the money for, what his story is.

I think when Riku comes back I'll let him take me downstairs.

* * *

The following night, the boy's not there. I don't realise how much I was counting on him showing up until he doesn't. I mean, he even came on  _Christmas_.

I pass the time crocheting instead. (I learned to crochet one-handed a few years ago; surprisingly it wasn't too difficult. I just have to stick the hook in the waistband of my pants to keep it steady.) When I finish the black beanie it's a bit too big for me. I wonder if it would fit the boy. I shove the cap under my pillow and stuff my earbuds into my ears, turning up the volume on  _Circus Maximus_  to distract myself from that thought. Did I mention I absolutely love classical music? I've wanted to play the oboe since I was little, but that didn't exactly work out. Maybe I should try the French horn one-handed sometime, if I ever manage to get a hold of one.

The night after that he still doesn't show and I think I'm about to lose it when there's a soft knock on the door. Aeris never knocks.

"Hey, Riku," I say a bit forlornly, the sound muffled since I've drawn my legs up to my chest, my good arm holding them in place and my face buried in my knees.

"Uh, sorry," and the voice is vaguely familiar but it sounds all wrong, "but it's not Riku today."

My head shoots up and I'm in a panic because Riku can't just quit his internship and  _not tell me_ , when I see who it is at my door. I'd know that sun-kissed hair and those alarmingly ocean blue eyes anywhere, even though I'd never met the boy they belong to before. The look on his face probably resembles mine, slightly dazed. I probably surprised him because I'm not old.

Now, there are several things strange about this particular boy showing up in my room, but what makes it out of my mouth is, "No guitar tonight?"

For a moment he looks even more surprised, then a bit self-conscious, and it's adorable, really, how he glances at his shoes and runs a hand through the hair on the back of his head. "You've seen me?"

I don't think now is the best time to tell him that I watch him every night, so I just nod. That's when I notice the Aide badge on the lapel of his black jacket, identifying him as _Roxas_.

"My dad smashed it," he-Roxas-blurts, his eyes widening slightly a second later as if he didn't remember giving his brain permission to share that particular piece of information. It takes me a second to realise that he's referring to his guitar. Then it's my eyes that are widening.

"That's terrible!"

He shrugs as if it's not a big deal, but of course it is. Why would anyone do such a thing? "Anyway, that's why I'm here," he says. "If I can't do my music, I have to find some other way to make money, right?"

"I guess so."

He shuffles his feet a bit and I can't help but notice how much more amazing he is up close. He's not particularly tall, but I'd be willing to bet he'd be several inches taller than me if I were standing. "So, do you need anything, uh..."

"Naminé."

"Naminé," he repeats, and I love the way my name slides off his tongue, like the ocean wave that it's derived from. "Do you need anything, Naminé?"

"Is Riku gone?" I ask mostly to keep him here a bit longer.

"Oh, no, he's still here," Roxas assures me quickly, and I almost regret asking because now he thinks I don't want him here. "But I'm assigned to this wing of the Centre for a little while."

I want to ask how long a little while is, but that would probably make him certain I don't want him as my Aide.

"Oh," I say instead. Brilliantly witty response, Naminé.

"Is there anything you need?" He asks again. "I can try to help you, or if I can't I can find someone who can..."

I don't answer for such a long time that he probably thinks I'm ignoring him, but I'm actually just afraid to ask for the one thing I really want right now.

"If not..." he starts awkwardly, "then I'll just-"

"I'm your last stop, right?" I interrupt before I lose my nerve.

He nods, his eyebrows puckering in confusion. "Your room is in the farthest corner of the wing."

I turn my gaze downward, picking at the little hole in my sheet again. "Will you keep me company?" My voice is so small that I have to look back up to make sure he heard me. He must have, because a soft smile spreads across his face, and I'm glad I'm not in denial about fancying this boy at least a little bit because that smile would have crumbled all my defenses right then and there.

"Of course." He comes farther into my room, leaving the door open just a crack and settling onto my sofa. When I just look at him he asks kind of teasingly, "Are you gonna just stay way over there or are you gonna join me?"

I blink in surprise before I feel my cheeks burn crimson, looking down at my sheets again. He must not think anything of my skinny legs or have noticed the wheelchair waiting next to the door. "I can't... I need help," I squeak pathetically.

He seems to see the wheelchair for the first time and if I thought I was embarrassed a second ago, it's nothing compared to what he must be feeling now, judging from the look on his face. He jumps up immediately, spluttering. "I-I'm so sorry, I'm an idiot, I-I wasn't thinking at all..."

I giggle at his fluster which I think helps ease the tension, because his shoulders sag slightly and he smiles bashfully. A moment later he's scooped me up in his arms, bridal style, which effectively cuts off my giggles, leaving me staring up at him sort of doe-eyed. Before I can get used to this he's set me gently down on my sofa, taking the spot at the other end and turning slightly face me. I look at him thoughtfully. "Weren't you wondering why a teen girl would be living in an assisted living residence?"

His smile is sheepish and he scratches his neck. "Yeah, I was. But I wasn't thinking just then... I don't know, when you invited me in it felt like just like hanging out with a friend or someone and I kind of forgot where I was."

I smile back at him because, really, that's just about the best answer I could have hoped for. "Thanks, Roxas."

He raises an eyebrow, but I'm not sure if it's because he doesn't know why I'm thanking him or because I called him by his name. Maybe both. "If you don't mind me asking," he starts tentatively, "why  _is_  a teen girl living in an assisted living residence?"

I'm surprised to find that I don't mind telling him. I rationalise to myself that this is something he should know as my Aide, but really I just feel... comfortable with him. I rattle off the tale like it really doesn't concern me at all. "Car accident when I was nine. My spinal cord was badly injured and a nerve in my right shoulder snapped, paralysing me from the waist down and in my right arm. After a few failed surgeries in my arm the doctors weren't really sure what to do with me and I had no place else to go, so, here I am."

He looks troubled and I wish I could read his thoughts right now. He's probably pitying me, but it's hard to tell. For a moment I think he's gonna say he's sorry or something equally as unnecessary, but he doesn't. "How do you like it here?" he asks instead.

My eyebrows furrow as I think how to word my response. "They're really good to me."

He raises an eyebrow as if he knows that wasn't really an answer, but he doesn't push it. I take this as my chance to ask him something in return.

"Why would your dad smash your guitar?"

"He was drunk and in one of his angry moods and said something about my street performing being a foolish waste of time, then he just kind of flung it hard against the wall," he shrugs, and I find it difficult to grasp why he's being so open with me. Maybe he feels just as inexplicably comfortable here on this sofa with me as I do with him?

I don't know what to say, and before I can stop myself the default response comes out. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugs it off again. "It's not the worst thing that could've happened."

We keep talking for a while after that. I find out that he graduated from high school this past spring and has no current plans to attend college and I tell him how I'm finishing up my schooling online in the coming semester. He mentions he'd been writing a new song before he lost his guitar and I tell him about Riku and Aeris. When I finally look at the clock it's past the time when I'm supposed to have visitors in my room, but I don't really want him to go so I don't mention it. He notices where I'm looking, though, and his eyes widen.

"Oh my gosh, it's really late, I completely lost track of the time. I should go."

I nod reluctantly. "Alright." He picks me up as if I weigh nothing and gently deposits me back down onto my bed as I fight the rising blush in my cheeks.

"Have a good night, Naminé," he says, ruffling my hair.

I smile up at him. "You too." He turns to go and I watch his back for a moment. "...and Roxas?"

He stops in the doorway and looks back over his shoulder. "Hm?"

"...thanks."

The corner of his mouth twitches upward and his eyes have a playful little glint to them. "You too." And he's gone.

* * *

We hang out the next evening too, before Riku is assigned back to my wing. I try not to seem disappointed but I think Riku, perceptive guy that he is, can tell anyway.

My mind is on something else that night as Aeris changes my bedsheets and straightens up a bit, even though nothing is really out of place.

I have a bit of inheritance from my mother in the bank. It's not much, but it's more than I know what to do with. A plan is forming in my mind, but I'll need some help. The next time I hear a soft knock on my door I take a chance.

"Riku, I need to ask a favor."

I'm jittery with anticipation the next day because my plan is all in place. All I need now is for Roxas to show up, which he should eventually since Riku asked to switch wings for a while. I really don't appreciate that guy enough.

When I hear the knock I sit up straighter and try to calm my nerves.

"Long time no see," he says from the doorway with a friendly smile. I beam back at him.

"Where've you been, Rox?"

"Miss me?" he asks teasingly.

"Oh, I've been absolutely desolate," I tease back, only the sad thing is I don't think I'm really teasing. When did I get so pathetic?

He notices the unnaturally large grin on my face and I think I've scared him a little because he raises his eyebrow uncertainly. "Something good happen while I was working in the other wing, or are you just that happy to see me?"

"I have a surprise for you," I tell him, feeling positively giddy with excitement. His raised eyebrow travels even higher, disappearing under his fringe.

"Oh?"

"Mhm," I nod pointedly towards the foot of my bed.

His curious eyes follow my nod until they land on the object leaning up against the end of the bed, and he loses his balance for a second, wobbling dangerously. For a second I think he's going to faint, but he walks almost fearfully towards the bed and falls heavily to his knees before the object.

"You...you got me a guitar?" His voice is awed.

I nod proudly, unable to wipe the silly grin off my face. "Riku helped me do a bit of research, and I think this is a really good one."

"I... I don't... I can't accept this."

"Sure you can," I laugh.

"You got me a  _guitar_ ," he repeats, looking up at me, and if I had to describe the look on his face in one word, it would be  _gobsmacked_.

"Well, yeah. But there's a catch."

"What's that?"

"You can have this guitar, on the condition that you play me the song you've been working on."

I hope he agrees. Surely he wouldn't let all of Riku's and my effort go to waste...right? After what seems like an eternity he nods, a smile blooming on his face. "The song's not quite finished, but it should be soon. If all goes well I'll play it for you tomorrow."

I grin. "Well, go on then, take a look."

Slowly, reverently, he sets the guitar case on the end of the bed and opens it. The wood of the body is stained a deep royal blue, fading into black around the edges. He lightly strums his fingers once over the strings and listens to the sound. "She's beautiful."

* * *

Through the open window I see Roxas down there pulling out his guitar, and it really is lovely. I tuck  _The Scarlet Pimpernel_  that I had been reading under my pillow and carefully prop my right arm up on the window sill so I can lean out farther and get a better view. When he said he'd play his new song for me, I didn't realise he was planning to include the rest of the street in his audience. I'm not complaining, though, whatever makes him comfortable. I notice he's wearing the beanie I crocheted. I had stuffed it into one of the small pockets in his guitar case in a brief moment of insanity, and I'm not sure if I'm happy he found it or completely mortified. It does look good on him, though.

He plucks a few notes before he starts, and already a few passersby have stopped to hear what he's going to perform. As he strums the opening chords he glances up in the direction of my window, grinning at me when he sees I'm watching. I have to remind myself to breathe when instead of glancing back down at his guitar, he holds my gaze as he begins the verse.

_The wind blows through your hair_

_People walk by, I just stare_

_Have you noticed? People rarely glance up your way_

_And there's a beating in my chest_

_And it's seeming to suggest_

_That before this day is through it might go my way_

I blink, having this strange thought that he's not just singing _for_  me, but  _to_  me. But no, that's not possible, he'd been writing this song before we even met. It must just be the effect of him _still_ captivating my gaze with those eyes that really shouldn't be allowed to be that blue.

_And so I sit back in my seat_

_I scribble down something that's sweet_

_About a boy, a girl, an endless stretch of scenery_

_'Cause it's like falling to your knees at a former stranger's feet_

_I did it just the other day, you should have seen me_

The corner of his lips twitch upward in amusement and he chuckles lightly at what must be the ridiculous look of bafflement slowly spreading across my face.

_Oh, and I wanna remember this night_

_And how my words never came out right_

_It's just my patience that keeps me alive_

_Just like all those pretty lights_

_Just like all the pretty lights in the sky_

He breaks his gaze for a moment to glance up and to the right, apparently seeing something I don't. Before I can wonder about it too long, though, his eyes have captured mine again.

_There's something to be said about the colors in your head_

_And how they mix to form the perfect shade of sadness_

_Not because of things I've done or any of the songs I've sung_

_It's just the story of our lives_

_We wish we had this_

My fingers, which had been tapping out the rhythm to his song on my thigh, freeze mid-tap. My gaze into Roxas' eyes intensifies by several degrees, silently demanding some sort of indication of whether my somewhat egotistical hunch is right or not.

_And I remember we stayed up way past your bedtime_

_Up on the second floor_

_Inside your wooden door_

_Just innocent kids in a victimless crime_

_Trapped in a metaphor_

_Hoping for something more_

He's lost this staring contest, looking bashfully down at his guitar because he can tell that there is no doubt in my mind now that this song is for me. I don't even know what all the implications of that revelation might be, but I can't think about that at the moment because all I want is to be down there  _right now_ , but I can't and even if I could I don't think I could make myself move from this spot because he's still singing.

_And I wanna remember this night_

_And how my words never came out right_

_It's just my patience that keeps me alive_

_Oh, just like all those pretty lights_

_Just like all the pretty lights in the sky_

After he strums the final chords there's a moment of absolute silence during which there's only him and me. He seems to be searching my expression for a reaction, but I have no idea what he's finding there because even I'm not sure what sort of strange mix of emotions must be plastered onto my face. Then the crowd, which had grown by quite a bit while I was lost in Roxas' eyes, breaks into applause, louder than I've ever heard them. Roxas startles a bit at the noise and glances around as if he hadn't noticed the crowd's presence either. He puts his guitar back in the case after just the one song and the crowd seems disappointed.

I glance over at my Assistance Button and consider calling for Aeris to take me down there, but I hesitate too long because when I look back at the street below Roxas is already gone. I try to ignore the tightness in my chest, but I can't shake the sinking feeling in my stomach like I just missed out on an important chance.

I lean my head back on my pillow that's propped up against the wall, my thoughts swirling and getting tangled up in my head. The words Roxas sang still echo in my mind's ear, and I try to sort out what he meant by them. The tightness in my chest is still there, but now I recognise that at least some of it is hope.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep like that because the next thing I remember is blinking my eyes open groggily, the golden morning light slanting in through the now-closed window. I'm now lying down flat on my bed instead of awkwardly propped up against the wall. Aeris must have come in last night, closed the window and adjusted my position, and I silently thank her for saving me from what would have been a terrible crick in my neck this morning. I glance down at my right arm and find a dark bruise forming there on the upper arm. A sigh escapes my lips. How did that get there? I thought I was being so careful...

A bright spot of color in the left corner of my vision catches my eye and I look over to see a cheery yellow flower in a short glass vase. I blink dumbly at it for a few moments, wondering what it's doing there. It doesn't really occur to me that someone might bring me a flower, because no one ever has, until I spot the folded-up note sitting next to the vase, the top half standing up slightly in my direction because the paper's been folded one too many times and won't stay down. On the part that's sticking up, in small, careful handwriting that looks like it's not accustomed to being careful, is my name.

I reach above my head and grab the wrought iron bar of my headboard, maneuvering myself as best I can into a sitting position and picking up the note. I try to calm the excitable little butterfly of hope fluttering in my breast because I don't know that it's from him. But really, after that song yesterday evening I don't know what to think, so instead of thinking too much I unfold the note quickly.

_Naminé,_

_I won't be coming in to work today because something's come up that I have to take care of, so in case I don't see you for a few days there are a few things I need you to know. I don't want to leave you all confused up there in your room without explaining myself, particularly about my actions last night._

_One day on my way to a rock concert downtown a few weeks ago I was looking up and around at all the buildings, admiring the Christmas lights, when I happened to notice a girl sitting in the window of the assisted living centre. The first thing that caught my attention about her was how tragically beautiful she looked, like some sad heroine in a painting. Yes, leave me alone, those are actually the words that came to mind. But then the longer I looked the more she began to remind me of a little blonde girl in my class who'd mysteriously disappeared our fourth grade year. The same little blonde girl that I'd had a huge crush on, but of course I hadn't told anyone that because everyone knew that girls had cooties. I don't think she ever noticed me anyway. Our teacher would never give us a straight answer of what happened to Nami no matter how many times we asked. I think we all eventually decided she'd moved away._

I have to stop reading for a moment because my hand is shaking so badly I can't even see the words. I remember now, hazily, a boy my age named Roxas with eyes that really shouldn't have been allowed to be that blue. He was a quiet little kid, keeping to himself, and I don't remember me or my friends speaking to him. I spread the paper flat on my thighs and read on, realizing this note is quite a bit longer than I first thought.

_Anyway, I wasn't sure this girl in the window was the same one from my class, but either way every time I passed by that street and saw that you were still there it didn't sit right with me that you should be stuck in an assisted living centre. I wanted to do something for you, so I started performing on the street and saving up the money to take you out someplace special. At least, I told myself I was doing it for you, but my motives might've been kinda selfish too. I really wanted to take you out. When I lost my guitar I took it as my opportunity to meet you while still earning money. You can imagine how delighted I was to find out that not only are you the same Nami, but you're even more beautiful and fantastic than I remembered._

_Sorry for not coming up to talk to you last night. I had somewhere I had to be, but I wanted to make sure to keep my promise to you. I hope you liked your song. I hope I haven't scared you off._

_The flower is an English primrose. I saw it and it made think of you and all that cheesy rubbish._

_Happy New Year and hope to see you soon,_

_R_

I'm not sure how long I sit there rereading his letter, basking in the warm feeling his words are giving me. My sore cheeks are telling me I must have a stupid grin on my face again, but I don't care because Roxas thinks I'm beautiful and fantastic and he wants to take me out. Then it occurs to me that he has no idea how I feel about him. I need him to know that I think he's gorgeous and fantastic and I want him to take me out. I decide that when he comes back from whatever it is that he's taking care of, I'll be waiting for him.

* * *

I've been sitting in my double handrim one arm drive wheelchair that Riku helped me into, in the centre's common area, playing solitaire for most of the afternoon. Some sweet old ladies asked me if I wanted to play a board game with them a while ago, but my thoughts are too far removed to be able to uphold any semblance of paying attention to them and their conversation, so I politely declined. Every three seconds or so I glance through the glass doors to see if Roxas is coming. I think it's safe to say I haven't made much progress in my card game.

I've just resurfaced the same red king of diamonds that doesn't go in any of my stacks for probably the thousandth time when I see the outline of a black coat and that nuisance of a beanie, feet shuffling towards the assisted living centre. I waste no time in flinging down my deck and pushing the handrim as far forward as it will go, trampling full speed ahead over my cards and probably frightening the old people minding their own business in the various sofas scattered about the common area. I don't slow down, urging my wheelchair forward out the glass door that is blessedly automatic and onto the sidewalk. He sees me as I'm clumsily barreling towards him and stops short, hands in his pockets as he stares at me in mild disbelief.

"Nam-"

I don't give him time to say anything more because by now I'm close enough to reach out and grab the lapel of his coat, so I do, yanking him none-too-gently forward so that he stumbles into my legs and I keep pulling until his lips have nowhere else to go but to touch mine. He steadies himself with a hand on the back of my head and the other on the upper part of my dead arm, and I wish I could feel it but I can feel his lips on mine and his hand in my hair and that's more than enough for me right now. After a moment I pull back with a small gasp from all the energy I've just exerted, loosening my grip on his coat. I drink in his somewhat dazed but bright eyes.

"You jerk, where've you been?" I murmur, the movement of my lips barely grazing his as his breath mingles with mine.

He blinks and pulls back slightly, biting his lip before he answers. "My mom had some... health issues, and I went to be with her." He sees the horrified look on my face and rushes on. "She's completely fine now, don't worry."

I let out my breath. Wow, reality check, Naminé, you're not the only one with problems. "That's good."

He nods earnestly. A white flake flutters down, landing on his eyelash and sticking there and I realize it's snowing. He must be cold. As soon as the thought occurs to me I realize that I'm the one in nothing but a thin long-sleeved shirt and suddenly I'm shivering uncontrollably. He notices and whips off his coat, wrapping it around my shoulders and reaching behind me to turn my wheelchair around. "Let's get you inside."

"No wait, I need to tell you that you're amazing," I protest, drawing his coat tighter around me. He chuckles as he pushes me back towards the doors of the centre.

"You do, do you?"

I tilt my head back so I can see his face, which is smiling down at me in a mixture of amusement and such fondness that I feel the warmth rising in my cheeks. "You're amazing," I tell him.

He leans down and kisses me on the nose, making me wrinkle it. He laughs and dips lower to catch my lips briefly with his. "So're you."

He wheels me into the common area and parks me in front of a cushy chair, which he takes a seat in. He has a mischievous glint in his smiling eyes and I tilt my head, unable to keep the laughter from bubbling out of my chest at how happy he looks. "What?"

"I have a surprise for you," he says proudly, and I think he's taking great pleasure in being able to echo my words from the other day.

"You do?"

He reaches into his coat and pulls out two tickets, which he hands to me. I quickly read what they're for, my eyes widening and I almost drop them. Roxas steadies my hand.

"The symphony orchestra...?" I whisper, afraid if I speak too loudly the tickets will blow away or disappear in a puff of smoke.

"You still like classical music, right?" He asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I think I'm crying or something absurd, because he wipes the wet off my cheek with his hand that's still cold from the outdoors. It occurs to me that now is kind of a ridiculous time for my eyes to decide to turn on the waterworks, after all the things that have happened over the past few days. Or maybe it's the combination of everything that's happened that's overwhelming. Maybe it's because nobody has ever cared about me so  _much_ that they would remember a detail about me for so many years, a detail I don't even recall ever sharing.

"I got my first salary in the mail early," he explains, overlooking the fact that I'm making a blubbering mess of myself, bless his heart. "As it turns out, being an Aide pays better than street performing even when you don't show up."

I laugh out of pure happiness, handing him back the tickets so he can hold onto them. "Thank you," I say sincerely. "I've always wanted to go." But I never had anyone to go with, I add silently.

"Really?" He asks excitedly. "Wow, this is great. I was really hoping your taste in music hadn't changed."

I shake my head. "It hasn't," I assure him, placing my hand over his which has moved from my cheek to cup the side of my face and regarding him thoughtfully. "I do remember you, you know."

"Mm?" He brushes my bangs out of my face, seeming distracted. I hear a few old people talking in what they must think is a quiet voice about how adorable we are.

"From elementary school. I remember you. You were the sweet, quiet one who always seemed content to play by himself at recess."

He makes a thoughtful little "huh" that's more air than sound, the kind you make when you're starting to see something in a new way.

"I knew my dad was wrong about you," he says.

"What do you mean?"

He leans in and pecks me on the corner of my mouth, drawing a smile out of me. "You are definitely not a foolish waste of time."

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are wonderful and perfect and everything good about life :) I also enjoy when people ask me things :D So if you have any questions about this story (or otherwise if you're just feeling chatty), ask me! I don't bite too hard.
> 
> UPDATE: Part 1 of Roxas' side of this story will soon be uploaded under the title "The Colors In Your Head."


End file.
